A brief look at Rwanda

I started writing a post about a visa run I did to Rwanda and never got around to finishing it.  I figure I should probably wrap up some things before I embark on my next adventure (more on that in my next/last blog post).  So here's my Rwanda post:

I have not traveled in Rwanda, nor had any significant discourse with Rwandans.  This post is merely my brief impressions from 2 two-day visits to Kigali, the capital. 

My first visit was tacked on the end of nice holiday; I went out to the Ssesse Islands in Lake Victoria (world’s largest lake) for a few days, then traveled down south, to Lake Bunyoni, a former volcanic valley that was flooded thousands of years ago, then down to Kigali.  On my second visit, I unfortunately came down with the flu while on my 9-hour bus ride; I would have opted out of the trip if I could have, but my Uganda visa was going to expire and I had to leave the country.

Entering Kigali, I was struck by how clean and ordered the city is compared to Kampala.  Rwanda aims to be the ‘Singapore of Africa’ which I hope means they aim to become a modern trading hub for the region, rather than a nation that canes their citizens for minor offenses and prohibits chewing gum and spitting.  It seems almost magical – coming from Kampala – to find that not only are the roads pothole-free, but traffic laws are obeyed, motorbike taxis have an extra helmet for riders, and sidewalks exist.  Walking around the city, I also noticed with glee that I wasn’t heckled or harassed.  The city itself is quite modern looking and somehow dust-free (another scourge of most Kampala).  It even seemed hillier than Kampala, although much smaller. 

I did, however, have difficulty finding restaurants.  Understandably it would be difficult anywhere to find food in residential areas, but I stayed in the city center, and after walking around for an hour, I had found only one questionable buffet and one empty cafe that served only omelets (at least as far as I could gather…they had no menu and I asked in French).  Now while Kampala just cannot compare to SE Asia in terms of food, variety, availability, quality, etc., there is a plethora of restaurants and even some street food in certain areas.  So I can only suppose that I was in the wrong part of town for food (which seems strange, as it was the city center) or most people eat at home. 

Kigali seems quite boring compared to Kampala.  Of course, things are different when you live in a place, get to know the area, and have friends, but just from my brief time there, I got a distinct impression that there isn’t a thriving nightlife.  Even shopping options seems less than Kampala.  While it feels much safer than Kampala, I’ll take Kampala any day over Kigali. 

Kigali feels empty; walking around, there just isn’t the same thriving pulse of people, sometimes en masse, like you find in Kampala.  Kampala is crowded – you experience it walking the streets, shopping, and driving, but Kigali’s streets and sidewalks are vastly quieter.  Is this because of the genocide that reduced their population by 1/3, or merely because the city center is a place of expensive hotels and business, so people live and gather in surrounding neighborhoods?  I don’t know, but if the former is responsible, Kigali takes on an eerie quality. 

The genocide was never far from my mind while there; it’s difficult to reconcile the idea that 18 years ago, some of the most horrific crimes of our age took place there.  They’ve cleaned up nicely, and there’s really no physical reminders left – no burned houses, no rubble, no graffiti – like you might expect in a war-torn nation.  Paul Kagame has cleaned up absolutely.  People go about their lives.  It’s difficult to conceptualize that all those people walking the streets, working, living, have been indelibly affected from the genocide.  Families murdered, friends, neighbors, children.  Bodies decaying in the streets.  An even stranger thought is that some of those people out there – maybe the shopkeeper, or motorbike driver – might have even been one of the perpetrators, one of the Interhawme.  After all the blood was washed from the streets, people needed to find a way to move on with their lives.  Reconciliation became an important factor in putting the country back together again, and this meant allowing the lesser Interhawme, (the footmen, not the masterminds) back into the country and back into society.  So they returned to their homes, to live perhaps next to a neighbor they might have killed. 

I visited the Genocide Memorial Museum, really one of the only ‘touristy’ things to do in Kigali (the second is having a drink at the Hotel Milles-Collines, the real hotel that Hotel Rwanda was based on).  I’ve visited the Holocaust Museum in D.C., which is horrific in many ways, one being that it was so well documented, planned, and executed for so long.  The Rwandan genocide is chilling because it was planned and carried out so fast.  Lists were compiled, and within 90 days, Tutsi’s and moderate Hutu’s were killed, no, not just killed, but hacked to death with machetes.  The museum is very well put together, with a great comprehensive history dating back to before colonialism, and how and why escalation happened.  For me, one of the most disturbing things about the museum is that everything is in color.  Color photographs.  Color video.  The Holocaust was terrible; it wrenches up your insides with the horror of it all.  But it is easier to take a step back and separate yourself from it all because it was lifetimes ago. 

Rwanda seems to be doing very well coming off the heels of this horrible massacre- as the Western media puts it, 'Well done, Kagame, well done!' - and there's a lot of things that could be said both for and against the way Kagame is running his healing country.  But I'm not going to touch on any of those things, mostly because I'm not educated enough on them.  The things I do know are interesting and worthy of debate and intellectual conversation, but it wouldn't really be fair to publish them here, as I don't want to put out wrong or one-sided info. 

To wrap this up: Rwanda is an interesting place, and I'd like to get to know it better.  But only on visits - Kampala still is much more rockin'. 

Success! And happiness.

It’s so easy to get bogged down with the negatives out here sometimes.  I’m sure some of you are wondering, after reading my posts, why the heck I’m out here considering (poor electricity, lack of water, no money, etc).  But today was a great day, one of those days that makes it all worthwhile. 

I’ve been stuck in Hoima town for a solid month, which really isn’t so awful thanks to books and movies, but the town is nothing to write home about.  Today, however, I got out into the countryside.  And while I make a weekly trip out to my second office an hour away, it’s all road and town and office; today reminded me just how beautiful Uganda actually is. 

In my area (western Uganda, along Lake Albert, next to DR Congo), it’s green and has lovely rolling hills.  The trees are huge and lush, with mangoes and jackfruit in abundance.  There are these crazy birds that sound like monkeys, and these cool lizards that are bright blue and green.  Sometimes you can see monkeys, and a chimpanzee sanctuary isn’t far.  And I really like going out into the country with my field officer, because he shows me which trees are good for bees, and which aren’t native, and tells me interesting things about the area. 

So the purpose of our trip today was to visit with some of our farmers, and hear their success stories since our project started.  I sit in our office most days doing budgets and writing reports and keeping the project going from a managerial point, so going out to the farmer’s house and actually seeing the difference this project is making in their lives was a really great motivator.  No, this project isn’t perfect, and I’m constantly working to make it better, but we are making a difference and that means a lot to me. 

This particular farmer has been beekeeping for over 20 years, and has over 200 beehives (unheard of!).  But he keeps traditional hives and methods; he comes to our trainings and is learning things his practical experience hasn’t taught him, like the best methods of extracting honey, keeping it pure and clean.  Since he started selling honey to us, he has been able to buy a cow, buy new clothes for his wife and children (all nine of them), pay for his kids’ school fees (fantastic!!!), build his son a house, and purchase more land in a nearby village.  That’s after four months with our project.  I’m amazed and so proud. 

One of the reasons I love working small, on-the-ground projects is because you get to know the people you are helping, and you can actually see the difference you make in their lives.  I don’t know, maybe that’s a little selfish on my part, but I like to see that the project is working, not just read a report or study stats about success. 

Oh, and a little side note: the farmer was growing chili bushes.  I can’t find chilies in my local market, so I’ve been suffering through with chili powder (oh, the horror!!).  The farmer’s wife gave me a handful of chilies to take home with me.  Yippee!!

Anyway, I have another day of this tomorrow, of which I’m looking forward to.  Right now, I’m a happy girl. 

It's the Final Countdown

Well, I’ve gone and done it.  I’ve used up almost all of my savings, and am now stuck in Hoima until I get a job with an actual salary.  Of course, I knew this day was coming, but that didn’t really help my ‘Oh Shit!’ moment over Easter weekend, when I realized that would have to be my last weekend in Kampala.  

On a little side note, Easter weekend was really lovely.  I went to Jinja with a good buddy.  We previously had been out to the Ssesse Islands together (small island group in Lake Victoria), so this time we went to Jinja, a cute town where the Nile River begins from Lake Victoria.  Jinja is world-renowned for it’s top-grade white water rafting.  I went rafting once; most people love doing it, but these are grade 6 rapids, so you spend quite a bit of time flipping over and falling out of the raft.  It’s supposed to be part of the adventure.  I would have had a much better time if I didn’t fall out of my raft and go over a waterfall before we even hit any of the actual rapids!  I ended up injuring myself – waterfalls are rocky!! – and was terrified for the rest of the trip.  So this trip, I decided a nice, low-key trip to the Nile would be best.  I stayed on an island in the Nile and relaxed for two days.  A friend cooked up an awesome Easter dinner, so I returned to Kampala for that, and spent one final day relaxing. 

See the leg stick out of the water.  Yup.  That's me.

No, I'm not brave enough to be in the front.  I'm holding on for dear life in the rear of the raft.

So now I’m back in Hoima.  I’ve spent three weeks here without leaving (unprecedented for me), and I’m doing okay.  Granted, I’ve been too busy with work to notice, but that’s probably for the best.  As the end of my contract nears, there is suddenly a million things to accomplish, and with the constant power outages, never enough time to do them. 

I’m still battling food expenses.  No matter what I do, I’m still borrowing money from my other allotments.  It’s a good thing I don’t actually use all of my phone allowance.  Or my transport, but that’s mostly because this month I haven’t traveled anywhere.  I’m trying to branch out and cook more variety, but it’s all ramen or spaghetti based.  My big exciting purchase recently was cumin, although I’m not really sure what to use it in, other than beans (which I really loathe to make at home, since I eat it for lunch!).  

And while I've always been good at doing the solitary thing, I am looking for a new opportunity come July.  Something in a city would be great.  Something more than a few dollars a day would be even better.  

The Project

I think it’s time I talk about the project I’m working on out here, which might explain why I’m in rural Uganda, living off of $2 a day. 

Beekeeping.

I did not take this job because I am knowledgeable about beekeeping, or even particularly fond of honey.  This job is about gaining practical, field-based knowledge of running a livelihood program in difficult circumstances.  And let me tell you, I am learning a lot.  My main goal is to provide impoverished, rural farmers with the training and skills needed to increase their earning potential and lift themselves out of poverty.  That’s a hefty goal – ‘lifting themselves out of poverty’ – but I believe if this program really gets going, in a few years time, a substantial difference can be made in the farmers’ lives. 

In the six months I am out here, I am opening 3 offices/beekeeping resource centers in western Uganda.  The centers act as an information hub for beekeepers, a honey collection point, training center, and equipment supplier.  In addition, each center has a field officer, responsible for training farmers in the field.  As they naturally do, farmers live far from the main village; transport in the field is non-existent, so transport must come to them.  Which means that my field officer is very, very busy. 

I recently accompanied my field officer and guest speaker (an Australian beekeeper) out to the field for two days of trainings.  The training sites are far away from Hoima town, just about as rural as they come.  The countryside is beautiful, with rolling hills and largely undeveloped nature.  The roads are dusty, one-lane dirt roads riddled with potholes and crevices from the rains.  Some were so large that it probably would have broken the chassis if we fell in.  We actually got stuck in a ditch during one of the rain storms, and had to get into the bed of the truck and jump up and down to get ourselves out.  The kids in the school nearby stood in the windows, laughing and pointing at the strange muzungu jumping on a truck in the rain.  

Countryside.

 

One of our training sites.

Another training site.  Yes, we even train under trees!

Most of the farmers seem grateful for the trainings, but we are still battling what I like to call the ‘Gimme Mindset’.  Most NGO’s that do field work are in a habit of giving away free things.  It’s understandable to want to supply the poor with the supplies to better their lives, but it has been happening for so long that the farmers have come to expect free things.  Regardless of whether they can afford to buy, or even make it, now people proclaim they simply cannot work unless they get something for free.  What I want to support is farmers helping themselves instead of an unhealthy reliance on NGO’s free swag.  Foreign aid cannot and should not be a permanent fixture in developing nations; therefore locals need to learn how to work independently.

So when my farmers ask for free equipment, we encourage them to pool their money together to purchase one set of equipment and share until they can afford their own.  We also will be teaching them to make their own equipment.  I am also working on a partnership with a bank for a unique group-loan program.  It’s an uphill battle, but at the end of the day, I’m happy with the direction the program is heading.

Here’s a few photos from my first visit to an apiary!! 

Getting the smoker going.

Gearing up.

Inspecting a Kenyan Top Bar Hive.

Here come the bees!

Honeycomb with nice brood.

Those cappings are brood.

Smoking a Langstroth hive.

Checking out a frame.

Very docile this day. I didn't get stung once!

Budgeting My Nutrients

I have been keeping a very intricate budget spreadsheet, for my personal expenses and for project expenses.  I meticulously log everything I spend money on, from lunch to a boda ride to just one egg.  I can track how much I spend on food, or transport, and then compare how much I am over or under based on my given allowances. 

My first month was a little crazy, as I was still using my personal savings to purchase things…not cheap with all those ATM fees!  I had to fully furnish an empty house, which I was not reimbursed for.  So I logged all the things that I paid            myself back for from my first salary in my spreadsheet (transport, food, phone, accommodation), and all extra things I wrote down in my savings notebook, so I can track how much I’m spending out of my savings from home. 

I cheat a little on this two-dollars-a-day thing: I use my savings when I go to Kampala.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t make it through the month.  I was in Kampala last weekend and spent about 300,000/= (UGX) in four days.  That’s half my salary!  Sorry to disillusion you all, but Kampala is necessary for my sanity. 

That being said, looking at my budget breakdown, a few things are consistent: I am overspending on food, and under-spending on phone and transport.  Plus, I have my actual ‘salary’ bit, which I use as a miscellaneous fund.  So I’m using my leftover phone and transport to cover my food.  And technically, I’m overspending on my Internet, but I pay the balance of that from my savings. 

If I were to strictly follow my food allowance, I have 4800/= to spend each day.  I buy a bunch of small bananas for 1000/= and that lasts me three days of breakfast, so that’s about 300/= per breakfast.  I regularly spend 5000/= on lunch, and dinner is about 3000/=, which I cook myself.  I could cut down on my lunch by replacing juice with soda or water, but the yummy passion fruit juice is the only source of vitamin C in my diet.  I could also cut down on my dinner costs by making beans or lentils for dinner, but as I eat that for lunch, I like to make something different for dinner, something with more nutrients.  Something less mushy.  I have two go-to choices for dinner: Thai pad kee mao mama or drunken noodles (when I get fresh chilies and basil from Kampala—otherwise it’s just an Asian-inspired stir-fry), or guacamole and chapatti.  I never eat meat out here and have even told people I’m a vegetarian!  I reserve meat for Kampala, where there is refrigeration and cuisine. 

And I do miss having a fridge.  One of my favorite snacks is a crisp, crunchy, cold carrot.  Here, you buy all the produce from the market, which may sound wonderful if you are picturing your local farmers market in, let’s say, Boulder, Colorado.  However, the market out here in Hoima, Uganda, is a messy, hot, dirt or mud pit (depending on the season).  The vegetables, while fresh, are poorly transported, so they show up bruised and damaged.  They sit outside in the heat all day, so by the time I get there after work, most everything is wilted, mushy, and shriveled.  I can’t buy carrots or green peppers more than one day at a time.  And I’ve learned to buy green tomatoes, as the red ones are overripe. 

I don’t consider myself a picky person—I don’t eat seafood, insects, or organs.  I can eat just about anything else, but I definitely have my preferences.  For example, I would rather eat brightly colored vegetables than potatoes.  I would rather have rice over millet.  I would rather eat just about anything over cassava.  My food choices at the market, based on my preferences (and cooking ability), are quite limited.  Here are my choices at the market…now remember, there’s no supermarket with the ‘good’ stuff here, this is all I have for fresh produce: beans, lentils, rice, plantains, bananas, cassava, groundnuts, pineapple, mango (in season), passion fruit, bugora (very bitter leafy greens), carrots, green peppers, tomatoes, onions, garlic, avocado, eggs and sometimes eggplant. 

I brought back some pasta sauce from Kampala a while ago, but I’m hesitant to use them, as one jar of sauce is too much for one serving, and I can’t refrigerate after opening.  Maybe I’ll make a big batch on a Sunday and just eat lots of pasta all day long!  I also splurged recently; my birthday just passed, and as a gift to myself, I bought a box of wine.  I don’t normally have alcohol out here (another activity reserved for Kampala), but this box should last me a while and needs no refrigeration. 

Anyone have any suggestions on cheap, easy things to cook?  I have some spices, and I also have access to ramen and pasta. 

Lost in Translation

My staff here have never worked with a muzungu before, so we are having some communication and expectation issues.  Where I might expect someone to call if they are sick, it seems to be acceptable here (and by here, I mean rural Uganda, not the capital) to not call or ‘pick’ their phone.  Where I expect my storekeeper to engage with our farmers and visitors with good customer service, I instead see the more traditional Ugandan method of customer service: ignore until they go away or are forced to respond. 

Actually, I’m going back and forth on what is the most effective method of customer service here.  On the one hand, I, as a westerner, expect customer service to be all about the customer—the sole purpose of your job is to help the customer.  I used to work in a famous, nationwide retail chain back in America.  The rule of thumb was if someone came within 10 feet or you, or in the room you were working, you had to greet them.  It was a popular, busy store.  You could spend the majority of your working day just greeting customers!  While it was annoying for both the workers and the customers, who were bombarded with greeting after greeting, it was also necessary: Americans expect great customer service and would feel like the store was somehow failing them for not being attentive.  But then I look at how people interact here and wonder if that can really work, if the customer doesn’t expect anything.  Often, people will walk into the store, sit down, greet each other, and maybe after 10 minutes ask a question.  People are content with not having a purpose, and with the slowness in which things move here.  If, through what my westernized idea of good customer service is, my storekeeper began asking a visitor what they want/how to help/etc while they are sitting, it would be considered rude and pushy.  And sometimes, a visitor doesn’t need or want anything; they have come by just to come by. 

I feel like a parent chastising a child sometimes.  I literally have to ask my staff, “Do you understand me?” because Ugandans have this annoying habit of not looking you in the eye and not answering.  Questions are often met with a deliberate look away, and perhaps a raising of eyebrows.  As a westerner, I normally would find this rude and disrespectful; however, as I’m interacting in a different culture, I’m trying to understand their ways.  But I do need to ask if they understand me, because my accent and manner of speaking easily confuses Ugandans, and vice versa.  For example, I recently learned that a “How are things/How is here?” means they are asking about the business I’m running, and requires only an “It’s fine” for a response.  It’s just another form of greeting.  There is also the ubiquitous “You’re welcome”, not as a response to a thanks, but rather as a way of letting me know they appreciate me being here, or as a way of welcoming into a shop or situation.  Want to say goodbye?  Try a “Good time.”  Here’s how these things usually play out:

A man walks into my store. 

Man: How are you?

Me: I’m fine.  How are you?

Man: I am good.  How is here?

Me:  It’s fine.

Man:  You’re welcome.

Me: Thank you.

Man: Good time.

Me: Thank you.

Man leaves.

To all my readers not accustomed with Ugandans, this may sound pointless and a little crazy, but this happens multiple times a day here.  Now, the communication is just chock full of misunderstandings.  As I’ve mentioned before, Ugandan English is not the same as American/British English.  With my staff, I am constantly repeating and rephrasing, and even then, I’m not understood.  Luckily my background teaching non-native speakers helps, but even so, it’s frustrating when you think you are explaining clearly, and they do something completely different.  That’s where the “Do you understand me?” comes in again.  While it might come across to my staff that I am being harsh with them, I merely need to make sure that they understand so they do their jobs correctly. 

Let me give you another example: I gave my field officer instructions to form farmer groups for trainings out in the sub-counties.  Each group will meet once a week; each week will have a different training topic.  We already made our training schedule for each week.  My field officer returns with a group schedule that made my brain hurt.  Different weeks have different groups, none repeating, as they should be.  Mind you, I’d already explained this to him multiple times, but I had to sit him down again, and explain yet again.  Rinse and repeat as necessary.  The whole time I’m going, “Do you understand me?”  He doesn’t respond the first few times I ask, but finally he admits he cannot understand my ‘saying’.  I literally drew him a picture. 

Another problem I’m having with communication is the low-talking.  Remember that episode of Seinfeld, where Kramer is dating the low-talker and Jerry accidentally agrees to wear the puffy shirt on national television, simply because he can’t understand and is too embarrassed to ask her to speak up?  Go to any meeting here and half the people in the room are low-talkers.  However, they only do this in meetings…out on the street or with friends, they talk at reasonable (or sometimes unreasonable) volumes.  I don’t know how other people can actually hear what they are saying, but they all do.  I apparently haven’t fine-tuned my ears to their frequency yet.  I asked my staff about this (my field officer is one of these people), and was informed that to speak loudly, like a muzungu, would be arrogant.  Speaking softly indicates that you are humble.  This isn’t the first culture to think that foreigners, particularly Americans, are loud and arrogant, so I wasn’t really offended.  But I did tell my staff that as a muzungu, I expect to be responded to, and at a volume that people without super-human hearing can understand. 

I would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions on this topic.  This is a great learning experience for me!

Things that drive me crazy...

“Ugandan time” —you can expect Ugandans to come anywhere between an hour late to never.  Often, they won’t ‘pick’ their phones when you try calling; or if they do, they are always “on de way”, which really just means that they are probably still at home. 

The first project I worked on in Kampala as a volunteer was an HIV/AIDS Awareness Day.  It was quite eye opening as to how Ugandans actually work, which is to say, not very efficiently.  I had this contact at the local hospital that I was working with to mobilize the community for the event.  We had a series of meetings set up for the mobilization; with each meeting, his timeliness got worse and worse.  One meeting he was 2 hours late and “on de way”; another meeting he just didn’t show up, or answer his phone.  I left after 2 hours.  The next time I saw him was at the event, and I chastised him a bit on how rude his behavior was, especially for a muzungu, whom takes time seriously, blah blah blah.  A colleague later told me that my actions were rude to him!  At that same event, my emcee showed up 4 hours late and still wanted to be paid in full.  And my ‘big event’, a big-name Ugandan musician, showed up 2 hours late, just in time to see us packing up, and declared he won’t perform because there weren’t enough people. 

The men while walking down the street—for some reason it is just hilarious to call after me.  When I ignore them, you can be sure that entire groups of men will be cracking up about it for some time.  I get a lot of “Hey, sexy/beautiful” “I love you” “MUZUNGU HOW ARE YOU” (from some distance across the street, which is not a greeting in this case) and the ever present kissing noises as they pass.  A few try to grab my arm as they walk by also. 

Lack of clarity—you can have entire conversations here that just go round and round, because you can never seem to get the proper information you need to make the conversation make sense.  For example, I received a text message from a colleague from Kampala (in town to help with the project) the other evening: “is it too late for 2moro, coz i was attending there office early 2moro.”  Don’t get it?  I didn’t either, and had no idea to what he was referring.  I respond with: “I don’t understand your message, pls explain.”  His response: “I mearnt cant i see doz guys 2moro.”  Me: “What guys?  Pls be more specific.”  And of course, I heard nothing back from him.  And of course, he showed up for work the next morning 3 hours late.  When I called him to ask when he was coming for work, his response…ya, you got it… “on de way”.

Boda bodas—or motorcycle taxis, are incredibly dangerous here.  Now, I’m not a lightweight…I rode motorbike taxis pretty much everyday in Thailand, and even drove them myself through Laos, parts of Thailand, and Bali.  In Kampala, you have the matatus (minibus taxis) and the cars, and the bodas, all competing to get ‘there’ fastest.  While it’s still crazy, often the road congestion slows things down.  Out here in small-town Hoima, people drive like @&*holes.  They all drive as fast as possible on short, dirt roads.  The boda bodas are the worst, attempting to reach Mach 3 in 100 yards, just for the sake of it.  And they have two games they play: drive as close as possible to the pedestrians and see who can get closest without hitting them, and drive as fast as possible while honking and see who can get farthest without hitting someone.  Not to mention they also piss me off because they sit in their little ‘gangs’ and harass me as I walk by.  And when I say ‘gangs’, I kinda mean it.  There are many a story about one boda guy getting ripped off, or hit by a car, or generally put-out, and the entire ‘gang’ goes after the perpetrator.  This is a culture where mob mentality is still very real.  I read in the paper just the other day about a man who was lynched for stealing.  

Now, don’t get me wrong…I don’t hate it here.  I’m really looking forward to seeing my project come together, am learning a lot about beekeeping (bees are really fascinating!) and trying to enjoy living a simple life.  I enjoy my staff and want to start learning some Runyoro, the local language.  I’ve even started exercising…well, that’s more because I can’t bear getting in my FREEZING cold shower without first getting hot…but the point is that I’m getting healthier.  So it’s not all bad.